Though I cannot speak the words
They flow from heart to pen
With liquid hope I fumble
Through pages held within

Taste salt within my tears
Smeared ink from long ago
Validity of a bitter stain
A truth you yearn to know

My soul be not a mirror
Nor reflection you will see
Until you read within yourself
The pen that scrolls in me

Though flesh it be my cover
You shall not find me there
There's more of me upon this page
Than my lips will ever share
 

Teresa Wilson ~ 1999